


A Few Mistakes Ago

by cordeliadelayne



Category: Inception (2010)
Genre: Angry Sex, Established Relationship, Everyone has feelings, M/M, Pre-Movie(s), arthur doesn't like to show he cares, eames is persistent
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-04-17
Updated: 2016-04-17
Packaged: 2018-06-02 14:32:54
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,129
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/6570004
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/cordeliadelayne/pseuds/cordeliadelayne
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Whatever Arthur and Eames have together, it isn't perfect. There's a chance that's why it works.</p>
            </blockquote>





	A Few Mistakes Ago

**Author's Note:**

  * For [fififolle](https://archiveofourown.org/users/fififolle/gifts).



> Written as a Christmas present for the always lovely fififolle, who wanted something angry and sexy. Set pre-movie. Originally posted to Livejournal in 2013.

“No.”

“...”

“Don't pull that face. I said no. I meant no. No. Absolutely not.”

Arthur slammed the PASIV device down on the nearest surface, which unfortunately proved to be a glass topped table which shattered and sprinkled shards all around his feet. He stared down at the mess and sighed, bones so weary that he couldn't remember a time when he hadn't felt tired.

Dom carefully edged around the mess.

“Something you want to tell me?” he asked. “Because that seems like a pretty big overreaction.”

Arthur avoided Dom's eyes. “It's been a bad week.”

Dom started clearing up the mess. Arthur made a movement as if to help, then thought better of it and stepped over the glass. He headed towards the kitchen instead, finding only a bottle of champagne with a red bow on it.

“Son of a bitch,” Arthur muttered under his breath.

He rummaged through cupboards and drawers and laid out his findings on the kitchen counter. Along with the champagne there was a box of crackers and a tin of caviar.

“Planning something were you?” Dom asked.

“No I bloody wasn't,” Arthur replied. He opened up the champagne and started drinking it straight from the bottle. “I'm not working with Eames,” he said when he had finished.

Dom opened up the caviar and put some on a cracker, humming to himself as he did so. “What did he do?” he asked around a mouthful of cracker.

Arthur took another swig of champagne. _Made me fall in love with him_ , he did not say. “I'm not working with him.”

Dom finished off his caviar and gave Arthur a sympathetic look that Arthur didn't care for. “Mal's eight months pregnant, Arthur. We need Eames. It's not negotiable.” He patted Arthur on the arm as he left.

Arthur considered smashing something but decided taking the champagne into the shower with him would be more productive. As he went, he tipped the crackers and caviar into the garbage.

* * * * * *

Arthur was the best at what he did. No one could come close to his skills at logistics and planning. But whenever Eames was involved he always felt like he had to justify himself, which only lead to teasing. Teasing which was always a little more barbed than he could handle after one of their – “dalliances”. (Eames' word, not his own).

It had started on their first job together, a successful extraction leading to a quick fuck up against a wall before disappearing their separate ways. After that, every time they met they always somehow ended up in bed, or up against a wall, or teetering against a desk. 90% of the time Eames was the one who initiated contact (one lazy summer evening Arthur had done the math) but Arthur had never said no, and Eames had never turned him down either. It wasn't a relationship, it wasn't even friendship. In fact Arthur had no idea what it was they were doing, other than perhaps scratching an itch, and that uncertainty was starting to drive him demented.

Now though, Eames was flirting with their architect (hardly a novelty) and Arthur was ignoring him. Or, judging by the look Dom gave him, doing a very bad job of ignoring what was going on.

“The mark,” Dom said, his voice carrying and getting everyone's attention, “is the CEO of a computer firm. Their rivals want the design of their newest tablet before it gets revealed at next month's technology fair. James,” he pointed at their architect, “is going to design a replica of the fair. Eames, you'll be a hostess catching his attention, who he beds and reveals the location of the plans to. Arthur and I are part of the rival team, feeding on the mark's paranoia. We've got three days to prep.”

He nodded at the cots where Arthur was finishing up setting up the PASIV device. He didn't turn as Eames came up behind him, but he did move out of his way when Eames tried to put a hand on his hip.

“Looks cosy,” Eames said.

“It's ready,” Arthur said to Dom.

“All right, let's try this out.”

* * * * *

James was a good, if not a particularly creative, architect, and the dream world looked exactly as the cardboard model he'd made. Even the paint job was the same shade. Arthur and Dom exchanged bemused looks, but didn't comment. It would get the job done and that was all that mattered.

A blonde with flowing locks and a body worthy of sculpture sashayed up to them.

“The mark prefers brunette's,” Arthur said. “Which you'd know if you'd read the reports.”

The blonde pouted and with only a faint shimmer, turned brunette. “You used to be fun,” Eames said, in a soft Texan accent.

“You used to be competent,” Arthur retorted, before stalking off in the other direction.

“What crawled up his ass and died?” he heard James ask, but didn’t stick around to find out if anyone answered.

Instead he explored their surroundings, making note of exit points and potential weapons. The mark had had very limited training in extraction but it never hurt to be as prepared as possible.

Inevitably Eames sidled up to him.

“Do you want to see what the bedrooms look like, baby?”

“Don't call me baby,” Arthur snapped. He stepped out of Eames' reach, but Eames just followed him and crowded him up against a wall. They both knew Arthur could get out of the position if he really wanted to but for the moment he didn't try and break free.

“What's with the pouting?” Eames asked. “I thought I was supposed to be the girl in this relationship.”

“You’re not a - “ Arthur started to say, before Eames words caught up with. “In this what?”

It was hard to tell with Eames, when he was in forger mode, what was the put on face and what was the real face. Actually it was hard to tell that even when they were outside of the dream world, but Arthur was usually pretty good at picking up the signs. Right now though, he had no idea what was going on with Eames.

“I'm going to check out the bar,” Eames said and started to walk away.

“Hang on,” Arthur said. He made to grab at Eames' arm, but Eames shrugged him off. “Hey...”

He caught sight of Dom on the other side of the room and slowed down his pace, letting Eames go. Now wasn't the time, or the place. They had a job to do. And he'd be damned if he'd let whatever the hell was going on with Eames interfere with that.

* * * * * *

Arthur snuck out of the warehouse whilst the others were still tidying up, and found himself sat at a bar downing vodka shots at 1 in the morning. It was hardly the height of professionalism, but he couldn't find it in him to care right then. He hardly even flinched when Dom sat down next to him.

“Arthur.”

“Shouldn't you be checking up on Mal?”

“She's fine. We're both worried about you.”

“There's no need.”

“Eames...”

“I don't want to talk about him.”

Dom took the shot glass out of Arthur's hand and downed it in one, before indicating to the bartender that Arthur was not to be served any more alcohol. Arthur didn’t even manage a token protest.

“Tough.”

The silence stretched on until even Arthur was becoming uncomfortable. When he actually fidgeted in his seat he knew that all was lost.

“We've been - “ He waved his hand “- you know.”

“Yeah,” Dom said. “that much I got. And what? Did he break your heart?”

“ _No._ ” Arthur frowned. “I don't have a heart.”

“Arthur,” Dom said. He put a hand on Arthur's arm.

“I'm going back to the hotel,” Arthur said, shaking Dom's hand off. Dom didn't try to follow.

* * * ** *

Even more than slightly buzzed, Arthur was on his guard and so when he entered his room and realised someone else was already there, he had his gun out and pointing at the intruder before the door had finished closing behind him. The fact that he quickly realised it was Eames didn't provide any comfort whatsoever and he didn't lower his weapon.

“What do you want?”

“ _Darling_ , really.” Eames reached up and drew Arthur's gun out of uncomplaining hands.

“I hate you,” Arthur said. And he almost thought he meant it.

“Of course you do,” Eames replied. He reached up and grabbed Arthur’s tie, using it to pull him close and down to the chair where he was sitting. Arthur fell in a well coordinated drop, his legs spreading either side of Eames'.

“You keep leaving,” Arthur said, and then immediately wished that he hadn't. That wasn't what he had wanted to say. Definitely not what he had wanted to say.

Eames' eyes softened, just a little, and Arthur wanted to reach out and smooth away the crinkles that marred his skin. He didn't.

“Arthur, love, you don't want me to stay.”

“You have no idea what I want,” Arthur replied and he stood up. “Get out.”

“Arthur...”

“Get the fuck out. Now!”

Eames regarded him coolly for a moment before standing up. “I'll see you tomorrow.”

Arthur went to the bedroom and shut the door, telling himself that he didn’t care whether he never saw Eames again.

* * * * * *

The extraction went off without a hitch, because even though Arthur was fuming, he could compartmentalise when he needed to, and he definitely needed to. Dom kept shooting him sympathetic looks, but Mal went into labour just as they were packing up, so Dom had to rush off to the hospital, leaving Arthur to clean up and promise he'd be along to see the newborn in the next day or two. James vanished as soon as he received payment and Arthur promised to give him a call if another job came up; he'd done a pretty good job and could follow orders, which was a rare thing when a lot of architects were more interested in their creative vision than the fact they might have a very real bullet in the head if they weren't careful. He had no idea what had happened to Eames.

* * * * *

Arthur returned to his hotel room and started packing up – he'd move to somewhere on the other side of the city for a few days, go see Mal and the baby, and then head out. He'd already scouted out a couple of potential jobs, but Dom wanted to take a break for a few months which meant Arthur working with another team (something he could do but preferred not to) or taking a break too. He thought it might be nice, to stay in the same place for a while, take his time over dinner, catch up on the movies he never got the time to enjoy, actually finish a book. Even nicer if he had someone to share it with.

He angrily dismissed such thoughts by ruthlessly folding his clothes and packing them away in his suitcase. So caught up in his own thoughts was he that he only noticed Eames had entered the room when he nearly ran smack into him as he came out of the bathroom.

Reflexes on high alert he threw the shampoo bottle at Eames' head, catching Eames on the side of the neck as he ducked out of the way.

Eames moved forward and grabbed at Arthur's arms but Arthur moved out of the grip and flipped Eames so he was almost falling to the floor before Eames rolled out of the fall, kicked at Arthur's legs and was pinning Arthur to the ground. Arthur made to buck Eames off but Eames leaned down and started kissing him, fast and hard and possessive and Arthur was panting into his mouth before he could convince his brain that he wasn't interested in doing this. Because of course he was.

Eames hands were everywhere at once and Arthur didn't care that he was angry with Eames, or that he was equally as angry with himself, because Eames was right. He both wanted something more than this, and wanted only this and was so stuck inside his own head that he couldn't let Eames see how much he needed this. He had the sneaking suspicion that Eames knew anyway, that _Eames_ god help them, was the most mature one in this relationship that wasn't.

“I've got you,” Eames whispered and started planting kisses and bites along Arthur's neck. Arthur arched his back to give Eames better access and to get friction on his aching cock. He felt Eames smile against his skin and one of his hands began to efficiently undo Arthur's belt and pull at his trousers. God he had such a competency kink.

“Yes, you really do,” Eames laughed and Arthur blinked. He was more far gone than he thought if he couldn't even control what his mouth was doing.

Arthur gasped as Eames gripped his cock and started moving his hand.

“No,” he said after a moment and Eames stilled immediately. Arthur kissed him for that, deep and thorough. “Fuck me. I want you to...” He couldn’t finish as Eames was kissing him again, claiming his mouth in a way that made Arthur's heart ache.

“I'll have to move,” Eames said.

“Lube, condoms, bathroom, top shelf,” Arthur panted.

Eames got up and dashed towards the bathroom, kicking off his shoes as he went. Arthur started to quickly undress himself and moved to the bed, knocking his suitcase which had been on it to the floor, not caring that his neatly folded clothing would need repacking.

“God, you're beautiful,” Eames said from the doorway.

Arthur felt heat rising to his cheeks but pushed through the feeling. “Are we doing this or not?”

“Last of the romantics, aren't you, love?” Eames said, but he didn't seem put off. Quite the opposite in fact.

It didn’t take long for Eames to prepare Arthur, he knew exactly how much he needed, knew before Arthur did just where he wanted to be touched. It was quite disconcerting at first, but now it was just perfect and Arthur had decided a while ago not to question it.

“Ready?”

“Yes, yes, Eames just...”

Arthur's voice disappeared into a breathy moan as Eames started to push inside of him, the stretch just the right side of uncomfortable. There was never anyone else, between the times when he saw Eames, though Arthur had never told Eames that, and had very deliberately never asked Eames what he did when they weren't together.

“Just what, love?”

“Will you just fuck me, for god's sake,” Arthur snapped, pulling Eames closer and not caring that Eames had that satisfied look on his face, like a cat who'd got the cream.

“If you insist,” Eames replied and Arthur actually shouted, half in surprise, half in relief, as Eames started to pound into him, hot and dirty and pouring out all the anger that he kept hidden behind his bravado and his plastered on smile into Arthur. And Arthur kept pushing back, a desperate rhythm to his movements as he pulled at Eames, kissing him and kissing him as if his life depended on it, his nails digging into Eames' back as he came and his whole body curled in on itself. He kept his arms around Eames neck, Eames mouth hot on his shoulders and chest as Eames finished himself off, his whole body spasming against and inside Arthur until all Arthur knew was Eames and everything else was just white noise that didn’t matter.

They lay together, a sticky mess of flesh and sweat, for several minutes, neither of them seeming inclined to move. Arthur could see how this was going to go already, Eames slinking off when Arthur’s back was turned, Arthur pretending that he hadn't wanted to ask Eames to stay, that the words wouldn't come because he didn't want them to, and not because he was afraid that Eames would go anyway. So he started rebuilding his armour, made himself harden his heart against the soft, surely involuntarily, movements that Eames' hand was drawing against his hip.

Eames planted a kiss against Arthur’s shoulder blade and Arthur nearly pushed him away, couldn’t seem to help the flinch. He felt, rather than heard, Eames sigh against his skin, and then Eames started to move away.

Arthur kept his eyes closed but tracked Eames movements all the same. He went into the bathroom first and Arthur heard the water running. Not long afterwards a damp cloth landed on Arthur's leg, and he did look up then, to find Eames was just staring at him, a blank, shut off expression on his face. Arthur sat up and held the cloth in his hand, but didn't do anything with it.

After a few seconds of staring Eames nodded, as if to himself, and started picking up his clothes.

Arthur thought back to Dom and Mal, how happy they were together, how they'd built a life despite everything. How sometimes he felt like the third wheel, even though they never made him feel excluded, had in fact made him a part of their family. How besides them, Eames was the only constant in his life.

“Don't go,” he said, as Eames was pulling on his trousers.

“What?”

“Stay.” Arthur didn’t know what face he was making, all he was really interested in was not breaking eye contact with Eames, and not trying to hide himself, despite how vulnerable he was feeling right now. And he never felt vulnerable. Only where Eames was concerned.

“You're sure?” Eames asked. He moved forward and stood at the foot of the bed, close enough to touch Arthur, although he didn't.

“No. But I want you to stay anyway.”

Eames smiled, one of his genuine smiles that lit up his eyes and did strange things to Arthur's insides.

“All right.” He took off his trousers again and slipped under the covers. Arthur cleaned himself up and then did the same.

They lay there on their backs, not touching and staring up at the ceiling, until Arthur moved and turned off the lights. It had been a while, more years than Arthur would care to admit in fact, since he had shared a bed with anyone for an entire night.

But as ever Eames made it easy, suddenly turning and by pushing and prodding got Arthur into the position that he wanted him, lying on his side with Eames pressed against his back, whispering dirty things into his ear, turning him on and making him laugh in equal measure.

They would never have what other people would call a normal relationship, but they had each other. And somehow Arthur knew they always would.


End file.
